about eight o'clock in the morning; and I
wondered and wondered, when it was about two, as I saw by a church dial,
in a little village as we passed through, that I was still more and more
out of my knowledge. Hey-day, thought I, to drive this strange pace, and
to be so long a going a little more than twenty miles, is very odd! But
to be sure, thought I, Robin knows the way.

At last he stopped, and looked about him, as if he was at a loss for the
road; and I said, Mr. Robert, sure you are out of the way!--I'm afraid I
am, said he. But it can't be much; I'll ask the first person I see. Pray
do, said I; and he gave his horses a mouthful of bay: and I gave him
some cake, and two glasses of Canary wine; and stopt about half an hour
in all. Then he drove on very fast again.

I had so much to think of, of the dangers I now doubted not I had
escaped, of the loving friends I had left, and my best friends I was
going to; and the many things I had to relate to you; that I the less
thought of the way, till I was startled out of my meditations by the sun
beginning to set, and still the man driving on, and his horses sweating
and foaming; and then I began to be alarmed all at once, and called to
him; and he said he had horrid ill luck, for he had come several miles
out of the way, but was now right, and should get in still before it was
quite dark. My heart began then to misgive me a little, and I was very
much fatigued; for I had no sleep for several nights before, to signify;
and at last I said, Pray Mr. Robert, there is a town before us, what
do you call it?--If we are so much out of the way, we had better put up
there, for the night comes on apace: And, Lord protect me! thought I,
I shall have new dangers, mayhap, to encounter with the man, who have
escaped the master--little thinking of the base contrivance of the
latter.--Says he, I am just there: 'Tis but a mile on one side of the
town before us.--Nay, said I, I may be mistaken; for it is a good while
since I was this way; but I am sure the face of the country here is
nothing like what I remember it.

He pretended to be much out of humour with himself for mistaking the
way, and at last stopped at a farmhouse, about two miles beyond the
village I had seen; and it was then almost dark, and he alighted, and
said, We must make shift here; for I am quite out.

Lord, thought I, be good to the poor Pamela! More trials still!--What
will befall me next?

The farmer's wife, and ma